Page 266 - The Kite Runner

The Kite Runner 255

Zaman tilted back in his chair and crossed his arms on his
chest. “What I have to tell you is not pleasant. Not to mention
that it may be very dangerous.”
“For whom?”
“You. Me. And, of course, for Sohrab, if it’s not too late
already.”
“I need to know,” I said.
He nodded. “So you say. But first I want to ask you a question:
How badly do you want to find your nephew?”
I thought of the street fights we’d get into when we were
kids, all the times Hassan used to take them on for me, two
against one, sometimes three against one. I’d wince and watch,
tempted to step in, but always stopping short, always held back
by something.
I looked at the hallway, saw a group of kids dancing in a circle.
A little girl, her left leg amputated below the knee, sat on a ratty
mattress and watched, smiling and clapping along with the other
children. I saw Farid watching the children too, his own mangled
hand hanging at his side. I remembered Wahid’s boys and ...I
realized something: I would not leave Afghanistan without finding
Sohrab. “Tell me where he is,” I said.
Zaman’s gaze lingered on me. Then he nodded, picked up a
pencil, and twirled it between his fingers. “Keep my name out of it.”
“I promise.”
He tapped the table with the pencil. “Despite your promise, I
think I’ll live to regret this, but perhaps it’s just as well. I’m
damned anyway. But if something can be done for Sohrab . . . I’ll
tell you because I believe you. You have the look of a desperate
man.” He was quiet for a long time. “There is a Talib official,” he
muttered. “He visits once every month or two. He brings cash with